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a dreamlike haze
by christyn refuerzo

We talked and talked for hours that night about anything and everything. For a single night, a night that will probably never be repeated nor forgotten. 

To passersby, it seemed like a bubble, our own little world where no one could enter. Like an artist’s “flow state,” we lost track of time, talking. The sun set, the sky turned an Arabian blue, and still, we kept going. 

The stars turned on their guiding light, the moon came out of its hiding. Still, we were there. And what we talked about—the basic idea of existing in a certain place during a certain time around certain people—despite being somewhat different in age, nationality, school, gender. still, the common line of being a human at that certain place during that certain time around those certain people, or rather, that certain person. 

And when I try to explain months, even days later, I know that maybe I remembered wrong. The night was hazy and I was tired and a bit too giddy. I probably just mistook a dream for a memory. Instead, even covered in that dreamlike haze, it was real.

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